


Caution: Curve Ahead

by zinke



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-03
Updated: 2011-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:04:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even from this distance, Kate can tell he’s got the sort of chiseled good looks that are more reminiscent of a character from one of Castle’s books than a heavy metal enthusiast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caution: Curve Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> I know; I don’t get it either. I was trying to write post-finale fic. This is what happened instead. Thanks go to gabolange for putting up with my writer’s block pity-party, and to nnaylime for the suggestions and advice.

The sun is just breaking over the hills lining the Hudson River as Kate steers her Softail onto the Palisades Parkway and opens the throttle. A smile tugs at Kate’s lips as she accelerates into the first turn and feels that familiar visceral tug in her gut as gravity and centrifugal force do their best to bend her to their will.

As she rides north, the hills and curves of the Palisades gradually gives way to smoother, more even ground. Kate feels herself beginning to settle, the restlessness that had driven her from her bed early this morning slowly begins to dissipate as mile after mile of asphalt disappears beneath her tires. Leaning back in the seat, Kate relaxes her grip on the handle bars and breathes deep, clearing her mind until there is nothing except the road ahead, the purr of the engine and the heat of sun-warmed leather against her skin.

Kate only stops at one of the many scenic overlooks along this stretch of highway when the need to quench her thirst and stretch her legs become too powerful to ignore. Pulling a water bottle from one of her bike’s saddlebags, Kate takes a long, slow draught, then wets her hand and rubs the cool water against the heated skin at the back of her neck.

A few feet away a smattering of people – a vacationing family from the looks of it – stands at the edge of the overlook, taking in the view. As Kate looks on, the father hoists his tow-haired daughter onto his shoulders and points downriver towards the city. Her father had done the same for her when she was little, and the memories of a much less complicated time bring a melancholy smile to her lips.

She’s preparing to leave when she spots him sitting at one of the picnic tables at the far side of the circle. Even from this distance, she can tell he’s got the sort of chiseled good looks that are more reminiscent of a character from one of Castle’s books than a heavy metal enthusiast. His bike is equally eye-catching: a vintage, custom Fat Boy that puts her sleek-looking Softail to shame.

Kate realizes she’s been caught staring when he smiles and raises his bottle of Gatorade in acknowledgment. Blushing, Kate pulls on her helmet and keys the ignition. She can feel him watching her as she motors out of the lot and back onto the highway – a suspicion that is all but confirmed when she spots him in Cold Spring a couple hours later.

Eyes narrowed, she watches from her spot in the line of day-tripping and vacationing Manhattanites inside the riverfront café as he guides his bike into the space beside hers and cuts the engine. Before she can see where he’s headed, Kate is asked for her order and by the time she looks back to find him, he’s gone.

Shaking her head, Kate collects her coffee and buttered blueberry scone. She nods her thanks to the cashier and heads outside, choosing to forgo the bustle and buzz of the café in favor of a lone bench by the river’s edge.

“Is this seat taken?”

Startled, Kate looks up to find the man from the overlook standing at the opposite end of the bench, a bottle of water and a Power Bar in his hand. For a second or two, she considers lying to him, then admonishes herself for being foolish. Picking up her coffee cup, she gives him an uneasy smile. “All yours.”

“Thanks.” He sits down beside her with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees as he cracks open the bottle and takes several long swallows.

They sit side-by-side in silence for several minutes, Kate casting the occasional suspicious glance his way as she picks at her breakfast. There’s nothing to indicate he’s anything more than what he appears: a weekend road warrior like herself out for a ride. And yet the cop in Kate can’t quite convince herself to let the coincidence go.

Turning abruptly, Kate asks him point blank, “Are you following me?” The look he gives her makes her regret her question almost immediately. “You know what? Forget I said anything. Sorry.”

“Yes.”

Kate blinks in surprise. “What?”

“I have been following you.” He gives her a playful grin. “But only because you’ve been riding my road.”

“Your road?” she scoffs.

“I’ve been riding this route for years. I stop here every time. The only thing that’s different about today’s ride,” he says, pausing to take a bite of his Power Bar, “is you.”

Kate laughs. “Almost a hundred miles between that overlook and Cold Spring, and that’s the best you could come up with?”

“Guess so,” he replies without an ounce of embarrassment.

Kate considers him for a moment, wondering what it is about this man that she finds so unnerving and intriguing. At a loss for an answer, she settles for collecting the remains of her breakfast and rising to her feet. “I think it’s time I got back on the road.”

“Yeah, me too.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “I’m heading up the Storm King Highway to West Point.” The seriousness of his tone is belied by the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And my name is Josh Davidson. Just in case you’re heading the same way and want to take out a restraining order before you leave.”

Kate knows the stretch of road well. She hadn’t been planning on riding that far out today; she had in fact been preparing to head home to where the beginnings of her mother’s murder board is taped to her bedroom window, waiting for her – and her alone – to fill in its missing pieces.

But the thought of going back only brings the empty, unsettled feeling from earlier this morning back with a vengeance. And so instead Kate turns and offers the handsome stranger named Josh a smile. “Thanks but I can take care of myself.” She says, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she inclines her head towards the café where their bikes are waiting for them. “Let’s go.”

 

*fin.*


End file.
